Mr. Stark would kill Peter if he found out the teen smoked. Then he’d find a way to resurrect him, and kill him again. Which is why Peter is perched on a tall building in the early morning, far away from the eyes of the inventor and his watchful A.I, taking a long drag of his newly lit cigarette. His lighter had been stowed away in the front pocket of his jeans, a comforting weight against his hip. Blowing smoke out of his mouth and taking a deep sigh, Peter stares at the smoke dissipating in the cold New York air, contemplating whether or not he had time to swing by Matt’s apartment before heading back to the Tower. Taking a couple more lungfuls, he drops the cigarette onto the concrete roof, stepping on it and effectively putting it out. Making sure he’s invisible to the bustling street below him, Peter pulls his mask and webshooters on, flicking his wrists before leaping off the side, starting his mental map towards his friend's apartment.
Matt’s apartment appeared before him in a matter of minutes. As Peter climbs up the side of the building to the unlocked window Matt always keeps open for him, the scent of honey and spice reaching his nose. Crawling through the window, he prays Wade isn’t in, opting for a quiet morning instead.
“I’m gonna eat all your food and steal your clothes!” Peter called out, not loudly, knowing Matt could hear him from anywhere in the home, dropping himself onto the hardwood floor before making his way to the elder’s bedroom.
Walking through the open door frame, Peter noticed the curled up body of his friend under the covers of his extremely soft bed, (if he’s being honest, Peter sometimes comes over just to sleep in the patch of heaven, he’s close to asking Tony for one in his room at the tower.) Smiling to himself, he quickly slid off his webshooters placing them carefully on the bedside table before turning to the figure slowly blinking at the ceiling.
“You know,” Peter started, slipping off his jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair, “It’s starting to get colder, and spiders don’t really do well in winter,” Still removing extra layers until he’s in his jeans and a long sleeved shirt, he turned to the dresser where Matt kept his extra comfy sweatpants.
“I didn’t know spiders needed specifically my bed in order to be warm. In fact, it doesn't sound like spiders at all. Sounds like leeches, parasites almost,” Matt’s slightly muffled voice said from under the covers.
“Well this spider needs your bed, I sincerely believe I would die without it,” Peter grabbed the top pair and swapped them out for his jeans, sock clad feet padding towards the mess of blankets and pillows, “And I also need you to move over,”
Grumbling, Matt shimmied his body over to make room for Peter’s small frame to slip underneath the sheets, immediately searching for Matt’s warmth to cling to.
"Was Wade gonna come by? Didn’t see him in the living room,” Peter said quietly.
“I don’t own him, don’t have any control over him, he does what he wants,” Matt chuckled.
Peter nodded and hummed, worming his way closer to the man, sliding his head into the open crook of Matt’s neck. Smiling contentedly, Peter felt his stress and worries leave his body and mind slowly, as the morning light started to stream through the windows.
In what seemed like a very short time (if you can call almost an hour and a half short) of talking quietly and resting, Peter’s phone rang. Feeling annoyance spawn in his mind, he unlatched himself from Matt, muttering a quick apology. Glancing at the caller ID, Peter felt himself snap awake, Tony was scrawled across the top. Peter stood up, phone still ringing, and made his way into the kitchen of the apartment.
“Mr. Stark! Hey! What’s uh, what’s up?” Peter said after swiping to accept the call.
“Where are you? Friday says you’re not in the tower, and you don’t patrol in the mornings,” Tony said accusingly, making Peter wince.
“Just out, was gonna get some coffee, maybe take a walk,” Peter said, looking towards the hallway where the sound of Matt shuffling was coming from, his form making a beeline towards the cabinets.
“For almost five hours? Try again,” Tony sounded more worried now.
“Mr. Stark, I’ll be back before lunch, I just had things to do, errands to run, that’s not a crime!” Peter watched Matt start the coffee machine, placing two mugs down, and turning to the fridge to grab creamer.
“It’s not, it’s just concerning when I ask Friday where you are and she can’t tell me. You didn’t tell anyone, you just left,” Tony said, and that was it, Peter realized. Tony probably had a nightmare and couldn’t find him.
“Mr. Stark. I’m safe, I’m okay. I’m just out for a little bit, I’ll be back before lunch I promise. I’ll text you if anything changes, okay?” Peter said softly.
“Yeah okay, sorry kid,” Tony sighed.
“No, I’m sorry for not telling you or Friday,” Peter eyed Matt filing the mugs, adding their respective amounts of cream and sugar.
“Have you eaten yet?” Matt asked quietly, but not quiet enough for Peter’s Starktech phone to pick up on the new voice.
“Who’s that? I thought you went to go on a walk,” Tony’s voice called, more alert than before.
“A friend, I’m at a friend's house, I told you I had errands to run. Look like I said, I’ll be back before lunch and I mean it, I do have a life outside the tower contrary to popular belief. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?” Peter spoke quickly, hoping his mentor wouldn’t ask any more questions.
“Just be safe,” Tony’s voice finally cut across, before hanging up.
Peter sighed, closing his eyes, placing the phone on the counter. Breathing in deeply, he faced the older man and opened his eyes. Concern flicked across Matt’s face before turning neutral.
“You’ve been out in the cold for hours,” He stated simply, passing Peter his designated mug, one Wade bought him from a job in Japan, with tiny Totoro’s dancing around the rim.
“And surprisingly I’m not dead, it’s a wonder really,” Peter snorted, taking a long sip, warmth coating his tongue.
“Peter, we’ve talked about this. Not sleeping, staying out late, smoking, you’re not doing okay, I can tell. I’ve known you for years, don’t think I don’t notice these only happen when something’s seriously wrong,” Matt says softly, gripping the mug tightly in his hands.
Peter sighed staring out the window, watching birds flit through the morning light.
“Okay, shit-- Nothing’s wrong per se, and I know you’re not gonna believe me--,” Peter adds watching Matt shake his head lightly, “I just-- I just have things. That I have to deal with, you know? It- It’s okay, Matt. I’m not back there. I’m here,” Peter finishes lamely, finishing his drink in a few large gulps.
“I trust you’ll come to us when you’re ready,” Matt nods, placing his own empty cup in the sink, running cold water.
Peter hums, dragging a hand across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose before glancing at the lawyer. He hasn’t cut his hair in a while, letting his brown locks grow a bit below his ears. Peter likes it. Likes that he can run his hands through it when he’s stressed and needs something to play with. He knows Wade feels the same, how Wade needs to be touching one of the men at all times just to remind himself they’re real, they’re not going anywhere. Matt completes them.
They complete each other.
They are Team Red after all.